


Found You

by Captain_Custos



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Jossed, Matthew Duncan is Jordan Parrish, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character needed for plot but not important, Phoenix Parrish, will be Jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Custos/pseuds/Captain_Custos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew Duncan has a really nice life. A really simple life. After being found wandering down the highway two years ago without a single memory or possession, He had settleed into  Norfolk Grove quickly. </p><p>He enjoys his Job as a small town cop, even if it feels a little dull.</p><p>He likes his apartment near the woods. Even if it feels a little empty. </p><p>Sure he may not have friends, or a girlfriend, or any real sense of the word home, but he gets by.</p><p>Until the Beacon Hills Sheriff department drives through town</p><p> </p><p>aka:<br/> that one where when Parrish dies he looses all of his memories.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Found You

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I started to write one where he is just completely out of it and the pack comes to find him, and then i had a mental flash or Parrish standing behind a desk and a hopeful looking Lydia coming in and him saying 'can I help you ma'am' and her answer, 'I really hope you can'. it changed a lot form that thought but ah well.
> 
> hope you enjoy
> 
> Inspiration post comes from here:
> 
> http://stilinskimartinhale.tumblr.com/post/93246247062/marrish-headcannon
> 
> MANY LIBERTIES TAKEN WITH HOW PEOPLE BECOME COPS

 

** Found You **

     Officer Matthew Duncan was stuck manning the desk, again. He was glad for his job at the sheriffs station in Norfolk Grove, really he was, but there was nothing he hated more than manning the front desk. The endless parade of angry tax payers and confused calls about ‘mysterious scraping noises’ (its that tree outside your window Mr Fisher) or about a neighbours ‘Meth empire’ (just because she drives a SUV doesn’t make her a drug dealer Mrs Barnes) were all so mind-numbingly dull. It was at times like this that he felt a thrum of restlessness pulling underneath his skin. He often wondered if, in his previous life, he had been a stunt man or soldier. Something nerve racking and adrenaline filled.

     But he could never remember anything about that life. The life he had before the Norfolk Grove sheriffs department found him wandering naked and cationic down the road leading into town. He had had no name, no clothes, no memories, and more importantly to Matthew, no one looking for him. After a good couple of months hanging around the police station, the other cops started to notice he had a knack for talking to the traumatised victims and witnesses. ‘A soothing nature’ the Sheriff, Annie Tinsly, called it. She was a big hearted woman with a tough as nails approach to life, and once she found a way to use him, she quietly stuck him on pay role as the receptionist.

     Over time, as his natural affinity for the station became more and more apparent, the rest of the officers seemed to all come to the conclusion that who ever their John Doe was, he must have been a cop. Or at least really into cop shows. So they gave him a badge and and officer to report to, and a shiny new name picked of the spines of the mystery novels in the stations local coffee shop, and he became Officer Matthew Duncan.

     It was a comfortable life. People liked him, he got to come to work every day and help, go to the grocery store and get flirtatious waves from the 60 year old Pickson sisters, drive home at night and get stuck into a good book. It was simple and easy and manageable.

     And so fucking lonely.

     Matthew sighed and stretched back in his chair, putting his feet onto the lip of wood on the inside of the desk and reclining back to stretch out his stiff limbs. The phones were silent, the rest of the stations inhabitants were tapping away on computers finishing speeding reports and the like. Sheriff Tinsly was shut up in her office going over her speech for the Community Give Back day tomorrow. Everything was blissfully calm. But then it always was in Norfolk Grove. Tucked up right under Canada, surrounded by cedar forest and thin river, nothing ever actually seemed to happen in the town.

     Which was weird, Matthew couldn’t help feel. It was another one of those itches at the back of his brain that he got every now and again. Like something was rubbing the wrong way, a misplaced word, or an item of clothing not lying flat, irritating him from his skin to his spine. Like every time he saw a Jeep circling around the town square, or if he ever caught a flash of red hair. When Sheriff Tinsly would complain about needing to eat healthier, or reminding him in all seriousness to take his gun in case of bears. He always had the urge to correct her and say wolves.

     He must have been really zoned out, catching some rare winter sun when he heard someone yell out from behind him.

     “HEY, DUNCAN!” Officer Jones, a chubby young cop only just scraping out of 21 jump street territory, was waving and stage whispering at him from his desk, sat just behind the glass that lead to the main station.

     “What is it today Jones?”

     Matthew tried not to sound bored, but Jones would often start bugging him about some random new subject of interest every time he was on desk. 'Educating our poor amnesic' he'd say.

     “Dude, we got a Man Hunt.” His eyes were comically wide as he slammed down the receiver. "Like CSI Miami or some shit"

     “What?”

     “Yeah!”

     “What are you telling me for you idiot, tell the Sheriff!”

     “Already did numb nuts, you zoned out. She just left.”

     “Whos going with?”

     “I am. Aaaaaand, I get to take someone with me” The kid said, smirking and raising his eyebrows

     “Jesus Jones this isn’t high school gym class” Matthew could feel the coil of anticipation deep in his gut, but he tried to keep his voice sounding as disinterested as possible “Who you taking?”

     “Well I was thinking of taking the Officer on the desk. I mean he looks bored out of his mind and I know he’d kill for some excitement. What do you think?” before he even finished the statement, Matthew was up and grabbing his kit. Jones hurried out after him looking a little startled

     “Jesus Duncan, starting to think maybe you did kill for some excitement. Just calm down, we have to swing by and pick up the Sheriffs coffee first”

 

—————————————————————————————————

     When they arrived on scene, the Sheriff was pissed. Mainly because there was another Sheriff there. Well that and-

     “Its not a Man Hunt you idiot!” She hissed at Jones once they exited the car.

     Matthew handed her the cardboard cup from ‘Georgies’, the only coffee shop on this way out of town and notorious for making weak and watery coffee. She took a grateful sip while glaring at Jones, grimaced at the taste, and started glaring even harder.

     “Wait, what?”

     “Its not a Man Hunt. Not for a criminal at least” She jabbed a finger at the scene in front of them, where two cop cars from a place called Beacon Hills were parked in a jagged v in the middle of the road. A young guy with blond curly hair sat in the back of one of them, his body sort of hunched over to account for his height.

  
     “A Beacon Hills cop went missing a while back. They've been looking for him up here, keeping us informed for 'interdepartmental' reasons. Not a Man Hunt, a Missing Persons”

     Matthew tried not to laugh at the sumbsturck expression on Jones face, and went back to watching the road for oncoming traffic, aviator shades on and hat pulled down low.

     “Were’s Beacon Hills?”

     “Hell if I know. Northern California I think. Or maybe Oregon?”

     “What would their guy be doing all the way up here?”

     “Beats me. But from the sounds of it that kid" she pointed to the curly haired guy in the back of the car "Has a lead"

     “Why did he call his own sheriff before calling us? Shouldn't we be notified of his intentions or some shit?”

     “I don’t know Jones, Do I look like the encyclopaedia of fucking Britannica?”

     "Actually" Interjected a new voice, coming from a guy dressed in a heavy grey double breasted suit " As part of an ongoing police investigation, He is only required to notify you if he finds something, and even then, he must notify his superior officer first." The guy smirked at Jones and Matthew rolled his eyes. Lawyer. Figures.

     "Besides" The guy continued, pulling out his phone from his pocket and showing the Sheriff something "He's not actually a cop. Just a concerned citizen and a friend of our missing person. Naturally he trusts his own people over... strangers"

     Matthew sighed and gave up on road watching the empty stretch of rarely used highway, huffing in a lungful of crisp pre-storm air. He could practically smell the rain coming, though it was hours off. He ducked back down into the car and radioed in the change of the crimes status then sat back and took a breather, watching the people out front of him, waiting for the itch to return.

     4 people were standing around the Beacon Hills cars. There was an older man with greying hair and a kind face who Matthew thought must have been their Sheriff. Beside him stood a deputy, with dark skin and a carefully controlled mop of black hair. The deputy was talking to the guy sat in the car, the missing person. He had a reassuring hand clasped on his shoulder, and though they looked to be the same age, and significantly younger than the Sheriff, the guy in the car was leaning into the deputy, listening to him intently, In the way a kid would listen to his father. There was another guy standing out front of the car, not a cop from the look of his clothes and scruff, but he carried himself like one, even with his leather jacked and angry scowl. Then there was the lawyer talking to Sheriff Tinsly. He wore his suit well tailored and with a smug expression. The way his shoulders were squared, and the general air of condescension made him seem a little (or a lot) cocky, but there was something familiar and almost laughable about it.

     Both parties were eyeing the other up nervously (well, apart from the lawyer guy, but who counts them) as though the other side where enemies across no mans land. Feeling a spark of sympathy for the guy sat shivering in the back seat of the Beacon Hills car, he grabbed what would have been Jones coffee and his own and decided to head over with a peace offering. It was his instinct for kindness that got him hired in the first place, so he hoped to god following it again would lead him right.

     As soon as he stepped out of the car though, he turned and crashed right into someone. The coffee slopped over the side of the cup landing on his pant leg and making him hiss in pain. In his periphery vision he could see a few of the Beacon Hills people whip their heads up to see what had happened

     “Oh shit.” he swore, putting the cups down on the asphalt and trying to pry the wet poly-blend of his leg before it burned. “I’m really sorry i didn’t see you there-“

     He looked up at the person he had crashed into and was stunned into silence

     As was she from the looks of it.

     He straightened back up slowly, watching her with carefully . She was staring at him with wide eyes, a look of terror plastered across her pale face. Swallowing down the strangest feeling of dread and some sort of sickening chill crawling up his shoulders, he put on a tentative smile and stuck out the hand that wasn’t covered in coffee.

     “Real sorry Miss-“

     “Jordan” she whispered, not moving at all to take his hand. He felt the shiver creep further up his neck and round the back of his eyes. Every part of him was tingling and humming, adrenaline pumping through him as though he was standing on the precipice of a cliff about to jump. He could see the Beacon Hills lot gaping at him, the weird lawyer had stopped speaking and looked about ready to bolt forward. The girl in front of him though, with fire red hair and the most beautiful heart shaped face, was looking at him like he was a ghost.

     “Real sorry then Miss Jordan”

     “NO I’m-“ she squeaked out, before clearing her voice and trying again “I’m Lydia, Martin?”

     There was a ringing in his ears now and he was probably smiling way to hard. He felt sick. Like real sick. Puke your guts out till you dry heave and get shivers sick. the girl, or woman rather and now that he looked at her she could see she was at least in her mid twenties, was still looking at him with the most awe filled expression.

     “What is it? did I get something on my face?” He tried to laugh and reached up to brush away an imaginary stain. Her hand lurched forward but she caught herself at the last moment, fingers hovering inches away from his wrist.

     “No. No you’re fine. Perfect” She smiled at him shyly, letting her fingers brush up against his. He felt the tingling in head explode into a supernova of pain, the sick feeling dropping out from under him till he was sure he would pass out. Her smile seemed barley contained, the beginnings of tears forming on her checks. The world was moving out from under him, and with a lurch he realised he was going down. He backed away, knocking over the coffee with his heel as he stumbled into the car door. She reached up a hand to help him but he flinched back and her face fell. Suddenly there were more hands, the other Sheriff and the lawyer kid moving him to sit down into the car. The Sheriff telling him to breathe, the lawyer glancing over at the scene with an expression of pure panic while he interrogated the young woman. Lydia, interrogated Lydia.

     Without any warning, his stomach turned, and Matthew stuck his head between his knees and puked all over her high heels.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

     If he hadn't been rescued butt naked of the side of the road two years ago by county cops, this would probably have been one of the weirdest situations that Matthew had ever been in. He was currently standing in the womens bathroom of Georgies washing his own puke of a pair of stilettos

     "They are Christian Louboutin's I will have you know, and I don't care how thrilled I am to see you, I want them clean" The woman, Lydia, sniffed at him from her perch on the closed toilet seat.

     He couldn't help but wince at the 'thrilled to see you comment'. His head was still a bit of a jumbled mess, but after puking on Lydias shoes, his Sheriff ordered him out of there and after a little persuading from the lawyer guy 'Stiles', Lydia had been allowed to drive him out to the coffee shop to calm down. She hadn't said a word to him on the way over other than a criptic 'where the hell have you been' muttered very low under her breathe when they first set off.

     And now here they were, hiding in the womens bathroom, avoiding the elephant in the room.

     The elephant being that clearly, Lydia Martin knew him. And he did not know her.

     Which meant she knew **_Him_**.

     As in **_Him_** Him. The real Him. Him from before.

     God his brain was melting

     He carefully laid down a wad of paper towel on the floor and crouched down to start sponging them off. When he glanced up at Lydia, she was still sat there smiling at him. But it wasn't the judging wry smirk from before when she lectured him about her shoes. This seemed private. Affectionate. The sort of look a wife wold give to a husband caught doing dishes or taking out the trash. That tiny little piece of appreciation.

     Husband and Wife.

     Wait, shit, was she married.

     Was he married? He tried sneaking a look at her left hand and was relived to find it bare. Relived and yet a little disappointed.

     But then again, he would have been missing for at least two years, maybe more. Who knows who this woman might be, what she might be for him. He could see from his vantage point of the floor her fingers flexing against her knee, obviously trying to control the urge to reach out. He felt a guilty sort of pain pulling down in his stomach and he went back to delicately sponging of the shoes. When he was done he sat back on his heels, resting his pounding head against the cool tile wall and sighed. The women's bathroom in Georgies was hardly the most hygienic place to sit, and certainly not the most ideal to have what he was sure was going to be a really big conversation, but the lock on the door supplied the privacy they would not be afforded in an open booth which he felt was the more important priority. He sat, eyes closed, breathing in the nauseating smell of vomit and disinfectant, trying to ground himself. Breathe In, breathe out Matty, thats a good boy.

     And then he felt fingers in his hair. His eyes snapped open and she stilled instantly, face going blank, holding startled eye contact with him. Obviously Lydias urge to touch had overcome her without her even realising it. He stared at her eyes, a Pale Hazel colour and wary like an animal cornered in a trap.

     "You said Jordan." he finally croaked out on a dry throat. 

     "What?" She blinked out of her daze drawing her hand back but he reached out and grasped it, ignoring the slice of pain it sent through his head.

     "When I asked your name earlier, you said Jordan first, not Lydia." His voice was measured and overly calm, the same tone he used with witnesses and he could see her getting frustrated as she looked away.

     "I always hateed it when you used cop voice on me." she almost laughed, her eyes glazing into a memory.

     "Used?" She snapped back and glared at him.

     "Use"

     "I've done it before?" she pulled her hand out of his and smoothed down the front of her skirt, tucking the ends in under her knees. She didn't answer him so he pressed on, facing the important question head on before he could chicken out.

     "You know me don't you"

     Nothing

     "Don't you"

     Still nothing. Crashing noises in the nearby kitchen and the drip of the bathroom tap. He tried a different tactic.

     "Who's Jordan?"

     She looked back at him, calculating and harsh, and he found himself wanting to look away. When he managed to maintain eye contact, a smile crept back onto her face.

     "Deputy Jordan Parrish. He was an officer with Beacon Hills Sheriffs department. Disappeared during an investigation into some animal attacks in the local nature preserve 2 years ago. Forest fire blew in, and he vanished"

     "And?"

     "He was my... well. My fiancé I suppose." Matthew felt his world drop out from under him for the second time that day and he had to look away, back down at his shaking hands.

     "You just look like him thats all." She said dismissvly. Then her voice shifted back into that dreamy quilty again as she reached out "Your hair is shorter though. More like it was when I first met him"

     She managed to stop herself from touching this time, and Matthew felt tears bulding up in his eyes, suddenly yearning to feel her fingers running across his scalp. He could almost feel it now anyway, like a memory trying to claw its way through. Maybe exactly that. He could feel the pressure building in his head again, the soft sensation of his hair being played with. She was lying. He didn't know how he knew, but it felt so obvious, the way he could spot the signs. The way he knew her. He did know her. He had to. 

     "Why were you lot here?" He tried not to let the words come out as sobs, but his voice cracked and he heard her shift closer towards him, still not touching. His face was too hot and too tight. The room was closing in and the smell was becoming overwhelming. He could feel the lurch of his heart pulling towards this stranger as she edged ever nearer, as though every cell was crying out for her.

     "Missing persons. We were looking for Jordan. Isaac is our best tracker and he called us with a lead."

     "Its been two years." He heard her start to sniff now along with him.

     "We... we never stopped looking."

     Matthew took a deep breath, raising his jaw up and levelling her gaze. He could feel it, sensations bleeding through, the memory of laughter, of hot touches in the night, of burning fires and trees ablaze. Like an echo finally reaching the mouth of a deep cave the images, the noises, the phantom brushes of a thousand hugs and kisses.

     "Did you find him?" He swallowed down more bile, knowing he was crying now, and glad that she was crying too, that he wasn't the only one here who was shit scared.

     "Yes" she sobbed out, red hair sticking to her tear tracks, "Yes we did."

     He grasped hold of her hand then and yanked her down into his lap, hand burying itself into her hair as she wrapped hers around his neck and shoulders, burrowing into his chest. They were both crying in earnest now, and he could feel those echoed memories rushing out to him, the name Jordan being yelled out with glee, and Parrish being screamed into smoky skies.

     "I'm so sorry" He sobbed into her cardigan. The cardigan Kira bought her for her 20th birthday. The cardigan he spilt white wine on one night as the fell into bed giggling and drunk on their freedom. The cardigan he wrapped her up in whenever she wondered home in a daze of Banshee visions and sounds. "I'm so so sorry. I got so lost"

     "Its ok Jordan, I found you." She leant back, holding his face in her tiny hands, forcing him to look at her. Look at her smudged mascara and her twisted braids and her watery beautiful smile. The smile she gave him when he walked out of a hostage situation unharmed. The smile she gave him on her university graduation day. The smile she gave him when he proposed. A smile meant only for him.

     She smoothed her thumbs over his check bones, chasing away tears that kept falling, legs braced either side of his shaking body.

     "I found you"

     His head fell back to her shoulder and hers back onto his as they clung to each other. His ears were still wringing, the dizzying nausea still alive, and his body was both exhausted and yet buzzing with life at the same time. He felt every part of her pressed up against him. Felt two years of pain and mourning in the tight vice of her embrace, and two years of lonely emptiness being echoed back through his fingers, still knotted up in her fire red hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I will re-state 
> 
> MANY LIBERTIES TAKEN WITH HOW PEOPLE BECOME COPS
> 
> needed to make the story work, and I wanted to get it out before tonights episode when it get completely Jossed. Even if you don't read it till after, it gives me peace of mind to have it up before


End file.
